Stoppable's Speech to the Thrid Campaign
by Ran Hakubi
Summary: Just a little something that came to me one night. Please to enjoy and R&R.


**A/N:** Hehe, just a little fun thing I desided to write one night while I was bored. See if you can guess which speech I parodied for this this one-shot.

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Ron Stoppable walked onto a stage dressed in an old Army uniform that was once a Halloween costume earlier in its life. On his head was a plastic Army helmet with several stars that had been cut out of construction paper taped to it. He looked out over the group in front of him, which was standing as a sign of respect. Over the loud speakers, trumpets played a fan fair. Once the music was done, he cleared his throat and begin to speak.

"Be seated," General Stoppable ordered. The people in front of him sat.

"People, this stuff about gamers being a bunch of geeks and nerds is pure baloney!"

"All real gamers come from different walks of life. Some are football players. Some gamers are rockers. Whatever you do, remember, you are a gamer."

"People, you are here for three reasons."

"One, you wish to donate your time to charity. Two, you are here for your own self respect and wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Three, because you are a real gamer, and like all real gamers, you love a challenge. Gamers play to win all the time! Why, I wouldn't give a hoot in Hades for a gamer that lost, and laughed! That is why gamers have never and will never refuse to finish a game!"

The crowed before him erupted in applause. General Stoppable was getting nervous. Tonight was the Everlot charity game-a-thon. Used to, it was the Zombie Mayhem charity game-a-thon, but the founders had since changed it. Ron had been asked to give the motivational speech before the game-a-thon was to begin. The General took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly before continuing.

"Now, not all of you are going to be fragged. Only a few of you here will be fragged in a major conflict. Being fragged must not be feared. In time, a frag comes after us all. Some of you will be scared when you log on. That is to be expected. Every gamer is scared during their first charity game-a-thon. If they are not, then they are a liar. Some gamers are scared, but they press forward, while others just stand back and watch while they get fragged to heck watching gamers who are as scared as they are go forward.

"A real gamer is one that keeps battling even though they are scared. Some gamers get over their fear in a minute under attack. Some longer. But a real gamer will not allow his fear of frag over come their since of determination, their since of will power, or the need to beat the game. Battle is the most glorious confrontation that a gamer can indulge in. It brings out the best and removes all that is useless. Gamers pride themselves on being great because they ARE great. Remember, the enemy is just a bit of programming code, they are not Fearless Ferrets."

The crowd loved it. General Stoppable was glad he had taken his girlfriend Kim's advice on how he should go through with his speech. It was turning out to be one of his greatest moments. Other than figuring out the Diablo sitch or beating some Lorwardian butt. They were eating out of the palm of his hand, and he was about to give them more.

"All through out your on-line time, you gamers have gripped about 'bull-hockey' grinding. That, like everything else in this game-a-thon, has its reasons. That purpose is alertness. Alertness must be grinned into every gamer. I don't give a care for a gamer that's not on their toes. You gamers are veterans or you wouldn't be here today. You are ready for what's to come. A gamer must be alert at all times if he expects to not get fragged. If you are not alert, the a Orc son-of-a-monkey is going to come up behind you and frag you with a tunic full of cow pies!"

Ron was loving every minute of this. He was moving around across the stage as he spoke. Every now and then he would point out to the crowd, as if talking to a single gamer.

"There are four hundred neatly marked frag sites outside of the Magnosian Thorn Bog, because one person went to sleep on the job. But they are Orc frag sites, because we caught the dummy asleep on the job before they did!

"An Army, which is what we are, is a team. It lives, eats, breaths, and sleeps as a team. The stupid dunderheads that write that stuff about individual gaming for Gamers Monthly don't know anything more about a real campaign than they do about Algebra!"

The crowed laughed in response. They loved what they were hearing, and couldn't get enough. Indeed, they were getting fired up for the task before hand. It would soon only be a matter of time before they would rip into the Orc hordes and teach them what it meant to go before an Army of the Tri-City's finest.

"We have the finest potions, the finest weapons, the best connections, and the best gamers in the Tri-City area. By Golly, I pity those poor codes we're going up against. By Golly I do.

"My gamers don't surrender. I don't want to hear any gamer under my command logging out. Even if you are hit, you can still fight back, and that's not a load of bull either. The kind of gamer I want is like this person in New Forrest, who, with a dagger against his chest, jerked off his shield and pushed the dagger aside, then promptly beat the living stuffing out of his enemy. Then jumped beside the dagger and threw it at and Orc before he knew what was going down, and all this time, he had only one hit point left. There was a real gamer."

The crowed hooted and hollered at the end of General Stoppable's story. Only a few of them actually knew of the gamer in question, but his tale had swept through Everlot on the wind, and soon everyone had heard of what happened.

"All the heroes are not comic book fighters either. Every person in this army has a job to do. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. What if every rider who was bringing a wagon of supplies decided to jump ship? The coward could say 'Heck, I'm just one Rider, they won't miss me.' But what if every rider thought that way? Where would we be now? Our lands, our homes, our friends? No, consarnit, gamers don't think that way! Every gamer does their job. Every gamer serves the whole. Every guild, every school, is important to this vast scheme of the campaign. The blacksmiths are needed to supply the swords and shields to keep this campaign fighting. The Quartermasters are needed to bring the food and the armor, because where we're going, there isn't a heck of a lot to loot. Every last hunter is needed to make sure we have fresh food and clean water to drink, lest we come down with the 'E.L: Runs.' Every gamer must think of themselves as well as their buddy beside them. We don't want any cowards in this Army. They should have their connections cut! Cowards will only bring in more cowards, while brave gamers will bring in more brave gamers."

The irony of Ron talking about cowards was not lost on him. However, this was the virtual world he was talking about, and not actual real life. But even there, could you call Ron a coward? He charged ahead, despite his fears. Even though he was scared out of his head on every mission he and Kim went on, he still forged onward. No, Ron Stoppable was no coward.

"Cut off all the cowards, and we'll have a network of brave gamers. One of the bravest gamers I ever met was a messenger trying to gather up all the pieces of what he was to relay from a tree during a fierce battle outside of the Glade of Destiny. I stopped and asked what he was doing up there during a time like this. He said 'Gathering bits of a message sir.' I asked 'Isn't that a bit unhealthy right about now?' and he said 'Yes sir, but the gosh darn message still has to be relayed.' And I asked, 'Well, don't those giant rocks and whizzing arrows bother you?' and he said, 'No sir, but you sure as heck do!' Now there was a real gamer. There was someone who devoted all they had to their duty, no matter how meaningless his duty might have seemed at the time, no matter how bad the odds. And you should have seen those wagons on the road to the Glade of Destiny. Those riders were magnificent. All day and night they road. Never stopping. Never wavering. With rocks falling all around them all the time. We got through on good ol' gaming guts.

"Many of those riders pulled for over 40 consecutive hours. These weren't warriors. They were riders with a job to do. They were part of a team. Without team effort, without them, then the fight would have been lost. All the threads in the rope pulled together, and the rope became unbreakable."

There were those in the crowed that had heard of the Battle of the Glade of Destiny. Some of them even fought in it. It was a hard fought battle, but the enemy had been turned back, and the day was theirs. It wouldn't be a battle that soon forgot.

"Remember gamers, you don't know I'm here. No mention of the fact that I'm here is to be made. Everlot is not suppose to know what happened to me. I'm not suppose to be leading this army. I'm not even suppose to be here at the Tunnel Lord's lands. Let the first people to find out that I'm here be the Orcs. Let them rise up on their mud covered hind legs and shout out, 'Holy moly! It's the unbelievable Third Campaign and that son-of-a-monkey Stoppable!'"

The crowd roared again with enthusiasm. This was to much for them. They knew that under Ron Stoppable's leadership, that they would not tasted the bitterness of defeat, only the sweet taste of victory and glory.

"We want to get over there. The quicker we clean up this mess, the quicker we can move on to Zombie Mayhem and start killing the undead before all of Felix Renton's peeps steal all the credit.

"Sure we want to go home, and the quickest way to get home is to get the buffoons that started this mess. The quicker they are beaten, then the quicker we can go home. The shortest way home is through Everlot and then Zombie Mayhem. And when we get to Everlot, I am personally going to stab that helmet stealing son-of-a-monkey Wraithmaster myself! Just like I'd stab a boar!

"When a gamer is hiding behind a barrier spell, if he just stays there all day, then sooner or later a Orc is going to frag him. To heck with that! My gamers don't cast barrier spells! I don't want them to! Barrier spells only slow down the campaign! Keep moving. And don't give the enemy a chance to cast a spell either. We'll win this campaign, and we'll win it by showing the Orcs that we've got more guts than they do, or ever will have!

"We're not going just stab the sons-of-monkeys, we're going to yank their gosh darn guts out and use them to grease the wheels of our wagons! We're going to murder those goat munching losers and we're going to do it by the basket full!"

Ron was loving this. General Stoppable was BORN to do this. He was leading this fine group of people into a battle that the Everlot programmers had set up just for this charity event. The gamers that had come to the Tri-City Charity Game-A-Thon were controlling the humanoid faction of the campaign, while in Go City; they were controlling the Orc side. It was widely known that the Wraithmaster would be leading the Orcs, however, until tonight, it was unclear who would be leading the humanoids. Everyone assumed it would be the Tunnel Lord.

"Campaigns are a mana, fragging business. You've got to spill there mana, or they will spill yours. Wade into them. Stab them in the belly! When you find a heap on the ground, only to find out that that heap was once your best friend, you'll know what to do.

"I don't want to get any messages saying we're holding our position! We're not holding onto anything! Let the Orcs do that. We are always moving forward and we have no need to hold onto anything except the enemy's nose!

"We are going to twist his nose and kick them in the backside all the time! Our basic plan of operation is to always move forward, no matter if we have to go over, under, or through the enemy! We are going to go through them like a naco through a naked mole rat!

"From time to time, we are going to get complaints that we are pushing to hard. I don't care about that! I believe in the old sound rule that a few extra keystrokes will save a gallon of mana. The harder WE push, the more Orcs we frag. The more Orcs we frag, the fewer number of our gamers will be fragged. Remember, pushing saves gamers. I want you all to remember that."

It was getting time to start. Ron had to finish this and leave them all ready to get what needs to be done. From the speech he had read, modified, and memorized (Thanks to the fact that he can verbatim recall everything Kim says), he knew exactly what to say in order for the finish to be a great one.

"There is one great thing you'll be able to say once this campaign is over and you go back to your friends in the Tri-City area. It will be when you're walking down the sidewalk with your friends and one of them asks 'What did you do during the great Tri-City Charity Game-A-Thon?' You won't have to shuffle your feet and look down at the ground and say 'Well, I stayed at home and watched a movie.' No, you'll be able to speak with pride in your voice and say 'I fought in the great Third Campaign and a son-of-a-monkey named Ronnie Stoppable! That is all."

The group leapt to their feet and started hoping and hollering and cheering as loud as they could. General Stoppable looked out over his gamers and knew that they would win the battle, and that he would be proud to lead these gamers into battle anytime, any game. They were a fine bunch, and the Tri-City's finest. The loudspeakers blasted their fan fair again, and everybody practically ran to their stations to make their general proud.

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**A/N:** Did ya guess it? If you did, then I'll mention ya in the next fic or update I write! Hope ya figure it out! 


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